


Descent

by JustAWeirdoHi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Game of Thrones Spoilers, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:54:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWeirdoHi/pseuds/JustAWeirdoHi
Summary: Daenerys copes with major loss.





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to try out some Game of Thrones writing.

Grief kills the soul.

Daenerys was consumed by her emotions, swallowed and digested by the concoction of loss, pain, and loneliness.

She had begun in such a low state, nothing more than a slave. Day by day, the afflictions only increasing.  
Death seemed like the only way to end her torment. She welcomed it.

But through sheer will, through inner strength, through resourcefulness and prophetic urgency, Daenerys rose in power, gaining new children after losing her only son.  
Throughout the hardships, even with mistakes toughening her path, the Targaryen continued to flourish.

Nothing was stopping her.  
That hopelessness was burned away like her previous family. The past was the past, and she had only the future to look to. She strived to do what others could not. Destroy all those who dared harm the helpless. Stop all the misery that plagued the world. 

Daenerys needed power. Enough power to where no one could ever hurt her again, enough power to make certain no one would suffer like she had.

Over the years, her pursuit never faltered. She conquered lands, expanded her armies, garnered support. There was no end to the possibilities. Her ultimate goal was the Iron Throne. Her true home, where her family belonged, where her bloodline was exiled.  
Even as men ridiculed and attempted to murder her, she endured, and prospered.

She remembered first sailing to Westeros, how nothing could stand in her way.  
How wrong she was.

Her chest felt hollowed out, her heart chipped away. Seeing everything, and everyone she loved slowly taken from her, one by one, was becoming too much of a strain on her mind. Many allies lost, her armies cut down.

Her precious Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, Missandei.  
She saw them all die, right in front of her, powerless do to anything. They were right there, and she couldn't save them.

It all replayed in her head, haunting her waking hours, polluting her dreams. The sword through her sanity was only twisted as the Northerners proved how much they thought she was worth. After everything she had given, all she's sacrificed for them, they still viewed her as an outsider.

Not only that, they hailed Jon as a king, praised him for riding /her/ dragon, as if she was nothing.  
And Jon himself...

He became her everything. But he betrayed her when she truly needed him.  
Now her claim to the throne was weakened because of him, because of his family. He no longer loved her. He pulled away when she reached her lowest point.  
His inability to protect her status led her to losing Varys.

How long until Drogon is taken from her?

And just how long would Tyrion last?  
Everyone was betraying her.  
Sooner or later, they all would.

The young queen sat over her covers, unfocused gaze stuck to the deep crimson fabric. The skin under her eyes were stained dark, her silvery mane frazzled and undone. All was silent, aside from the soft crack and snap of burning wood filling the air, Stormborn managing to stifle her sobs for the time being.  
Days had gone by, all were forbidden to disturb her. It was constant battle to even get out of bed, to not spend every waking moment crying.

The mental loop was as vibrant as ever, repeating everything she's seen stolen from her. Daenerys felt powerless again. Just as a slave. 

Her amethyst eyes welled up, lashes wetting, a pained whine hissed through her teeth. This grief was beyond anything she conceived to be possible, a pain she hadn't felt since she lost Drogo and Rhaego.

'Viserion. Jorah. Rhaegal. Missandei.'

Everything was slipping through her grasp like water.

The bed creaked as the woman pushed forward, bare feet causing a muted tap as they touched the cold stone floor.  
Slowly, she staggered to a collected pile she kept of Jorah's few possessions. Delicate hands searching throughout it, soon she found what she required.

A knife, crudely molded and handled, light bouncing off it's side.  
Daenerys fixated on it, waiting several moments before bringing it closer to her neck.

Tears burned her cheeks as they flowed down her face, meeting and dripping below her chin.

'I've lost.'  
Sobs echoed in the room, her body trembling so much it made the table she leaned against vibrate.

Choking on her breathes, the woman then steadied herself. A soft calm blanketing her fears. She knew what she had to do.

Tightly gripping the blade, Daenerys slashed her target, swiftly and precise.

On the ground poured a cascade of shining white, milk glass strands fluttering in all directions.

Her hair was sheared down above her shoulders.

The Dothraki cut their braids when defeated, so the world may see their shame.

The Khaleesi had been beaten, humiliated, her victory extinguished.

And she vowed, no matter the cost, that it would never happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
